The Challenge
by AlwaysObviously
Summary: Winter is about to end, the war against the dead has been won and Jamie and Brienne are travelling through Westeros to spread Queen Daenerys' message of peaceful rule. Unresolved tensions between the two will finally be resolved. For those who wish for a happy end with all the trimmings.
1. Chapter 1

She could feel her looking in their direction over the dinner table. Only small glances, inconspicuous, but to Brienne, they were most obvious. She recognized them because she had stolen the same glances at Jaime some months ago, before she had decided to bury her feelings and secret, absurd hopes once and for all. How ironic, to meet someone as obsessed with Jamie as herself, with one crucial difference: Shereen was the complete opposite of Brienne – beautiful, petite, with raven hair falling in soft waves to her waist. They had been travelling together for some weeks now, all through Westeros, to deliver instructions from the Queen to all parts of the country in hopes to establish a new, peaceful rule in the Seven Kingdoms. Jaime, Brienne and Bronn had been picked for the mission. Their intend was to spread the message to all people, not only the ones who spoke the common tongue, so they needed a capable translator to accompany them. As Missandei was needed in services to the Queen, they had sent for the best translator in all the Kingdoms. They had returned with Shereen, who not only spoke a total of 21 languages, but who had also be trained in the art of negotiation by the best. She was escorted by her own personal guardsmen, who made sure she was not bothered by the soldiers travelling with them. A wise precaution, as Shereen's exceptional beauty was noticed and appreciated by most men of the camp.

Shereen's presence had forced Brienne to reflect her relationship with Jaime. They never needed to spell anything out, there was just a quiet understanding what they meant to each other: best friends, soulmates in a way. She could see in the way he looked at her that she had a special place in his heart, but she wasn't so naive as to believe it to be anything else than platonic love. He jested with her as he did with Bronn, his many jibes at her a sign of their good-natured friendship. She always paid him in kind. She knew he had never had a romantic relationship with anyone else but Cersei, his late sister, yet deep inside a dark dread gnawed at her insides at the thought that someday, he might be with someone else. He might be with Shereen. It was one thing to banter along with your friend, but the idea to see him flirting with someone, kissing someone, lanced pain through her body. She didn't think she could go on spending time at his side if she had to endure that.

She wondered if Jaime knew this, and avoided Shereen because of it. He was sitting to her left, enjoying his stew and discussing strategies with Bronn, seemingly oblivious to Shereens stolen glances. The talk at the table was an easy banter, as a new hope spread through Westeros after the defeat of the dead and the first harbingers of spring. Men were trying their best to impress Shereen, who only sat a few seats down at the same table on the opposite side, so that it was easy for Brienne to glance at her from under her lashes. Shereen was so absurdly beautiful that Brienne felt all the more plain next to her, like a sore thumb sticking out. One of the soldiers leaned forward, and with sparkling eyes addressed Shereen: "So, Mylady, of all the brave soldiers travelling in this party, is there anyone who has caught your eye or interest? I'm sure we'd be happy to indulge you."

Shereen smiled wistfully and seemed to suppress a glance in Jamie's direction. "Well, interest must always go both ways, Ser," she said demurely.

Brienne scoffed. Only when the talking seemed to die down and she felt the stares on her did she realize she must have scoffed loudly enough for everyone at their table to hear. She could feel Shereen's burning stare on her, so she raised her head to counter that stare heads on.

"You doubt my words, Mylady?" Sheeren fixated her with a stare Brienne could not read, but she had fought too many battles to be intimidated by anyone. Brienne cleared her throat: "Mylady, I do agree there is truth to your words, but forgive me for doubting that it applies in your special case. I believe you could get up and kiss anyone in this room without fear of rejection."

The soldiers around her hooted in agreement. Shereen raised one eyebrow: "Is that a challenge?" The hall drowned in noises as the men cheered and clanged their cups on the table. Shereen got up and stared Brienne down: "So, if I follow your advice and seek out the one who captured my heart to give my kiss, and am rejected, will you apologize for being in the wrong?"  
Brienne's insides turned to ice as she realized what a mistake she had made, but she could not back down: "Of course, Mylady."

When Shereen strode around the table in their direction Brienne realized what a fool she had been. Now she herself had put that one thing in motion that she dared not witness: Shereen kissing Jamie. And even if he did not respond to her kiss, she would not know if it was because he truly was not interested or if he might reject Shereen out of consideration for Brienne's feelings. She and Jaime had always read each other like open books without the need for many words. He could not have missed that her feelings for him had changed to love, although she tried to avoid all situations in which she had to touch him or stand too close. And now they would be kissing right next to her and she had instigated the whole thing herself. Brienne, you're a fucking moron, she chided herself. You've brought this on yourself. As the footsteps came closer, she stared straight ahead, an icy fist squeezing her heart to nothing. She wanted to bolt and run but was frozen in her seat. The footsteps came to a halt behind Jaime, and then she felt soft hands on her cheek, tilting her head back and to the side, and then Shereen's soft lips touched hers. They lingered, probed, and after a short while, retreated. At first she was too stunned to comprehend, and when she did, she couldn't really believe it.

Shereen's mouth lifted in a sad smile: "I do believe I have proven I was right, but just in case there is a slight chance that I was indeed wrong, you are very welcome to visit me in my quarters tonight". With that, she turned around in a graceful twirl and strode out of the room.

The hall was so silent you could hear a pin drop. Brienne was still in shock, trying to wrap her head around what had just happened. She looked around and saw a look on the faces of most men that she could not decipher. Their eyes were glazed over, and they had the bemused air about them of someone who had just witnessed some strange magic.

Color started creeping up Brienne's cheeks and she risked a glance in Jamie's direction. His eyes were widened, conveying a mass of feelings that Brienne couldn't place. It was the first time that she had absolutely no idea what he was thinking.

"Well, that was unexpected." she said, and dug into her stew. The men gaped at her silently, then the mood of the moment broke and everyone started chatting excitedly.


	2. Chapter 2

Jaime sat frozen in his seat, watching Brienne attack a piece of meat of undeterminable origin in her stew. His body was flooded with adrenaline, hot and cold shivers racing through his body, and he was shocked by his reaction. When Shereen had bent to kiss Brienne, a sharp stab of pain had twisted his guts. He had never felt such a feeling before, a mix of anxiety, fear and jealousy.

He only then realized that he'd taken Brienne for granted by mistake. He had known for a long time that she was in love with him, and he kept an easy distance between them by jesting about her looks. Back then, he craved her company but was in love with another. Yet every time they were apart, it was as if a piece of him was missing. Once, years ago, he had sailed on a ship past an island that turned out to be Tarth. At that moment, an ache had passed through him that was so intense that it had robbed him of his breath. There was a longing to see her face, to talk to her, to see that sparkle in her eyes when she addressed him as Ser Jaime. It was in that moment that he realized that his feelings had progressed into something more, something unknown to him. It had scared the shit out of him. So he had buried those feelings deep inside.

When they fought side by side in the war against the dead, he knew that there was no one he would rather have at his side. He had never felt so good about himself, so sure of who he was, than when he was with her. And after the war, he was finally where he wanted to be – sparring and jesting with his friends, and most importantly, his best friend. There were still moments when their eyes met that he would feel a twisting sensation in his stomach, his heartbeat would speed up and he would be seized by panic that she might see it in his eyes. Truth be told, he was enjoying life with her so much that he didn't dare to upset the balance. What if it didn't work out as they planned? He just could not lose her. They had all the time in the world so why hurry, he had told himself. She was in love with him. There was no one else for her anyway. Or so he had thought. But when Shereen had kissed her, there was a look of such confusion on Brienne's face that a terrible fear grabbed at him: What if he had been wrong? What if he had completely misunderstood her awkwardness in some situations? Could he actually live with the idea of being just friends?

He studied Brienne, trying to see all the unattractive parts of her face to shake himself out of this terrible state of romantic longing. He concentrated on her strawy mop of hair he loved to tease her about. The firelight played on the blond strands. He loved the way her hair curled behind her ear, and all he could think about was running his fingers through the short locks and watching them resettle on her long, slender neck. He shook himself, studied her broken nose but although it was slightly crooked it was still a beautifully shaped nose to him. He did not risk a glance at her lips for he had caught himself before studying them, trying not to imagine what he could do with them. He studied her strong and proud jaw, but all he could think about was to brush his lips there. How had he ever thought of her as plain? She might not be beautiful to conventional standards but no matter how hard he tried, he could not find an unattractive part on her.

"Do I have something on my chin?" He tore his eyes away from her jaw to see Brienne looking at him with an amused smile and raised eyebrows. He pulled himself together and put the walls up. He tilted his head and grinned at her: "Sooo Lady Brienne. Any late night strolls to Shereen's quarters planned tonight?" Brienne gave him a withering look before returning to her stew. "Oh great Gods, I'll never hear the end of this".

Jaime leaned closer: "Well, it is going to be a fun day for you tomorrow. Seeing how you're going to spend it with Shereen, briefing her on the people of Tarth. Think of all the gossip."

He could see by the tensing of her shoulders that she had completely forgotten about that.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Brienne stood in the hall waiting for Shereen. She rubbed her sweaty hands together nervously. She had been in many unpleasant or unusual situations before but she had no idea how to cope with this. She almost startled as a soft voice behind her spoke out: "I do believe you owe me an apology". Brienne turned around, feeling a terrible crimson shade crawling up her neck, but met Shereen's eyes unwaveringly: "Indeed, Mylady, I have to apologize. For being in the wrong and handling the situation quite poorly".

"Lady Brienne, it's quite alright. Most of the challenge was my own doing, but I thought if there was a small chance that you felt the same way, I'd just have to risk it." She took a deep breath and smiled. "Well at least, now it is settled and we can stop thinking about it. How about we take a stroll at the cliffs and you tell me everything I need to know about Tarth."

"That we will do, Mylady" Brienne gave a short bow.

"Shereen, please. I think we can discard such formality after last night, don't you?" Brienne looked up, surprised at the slightly teasing tone, as she had not often been flirted at. It was so strange to be in reversed positions, to be the one that is wanted, but cannot give the same feeling back.

She inclined her head: "Very well. Then I will be Brienne to you".

"Come", Shereen said and led her towards the gates, "now tell me all about your home, Brienne".

...

A picnic had been set up for lunch overlooking the sea, and while they were eating, an uncomfortable silence settled over them. Brienne fumbled with her food, eating slowly to avoid talk. It was hard to wrap her head around the situation. For petty reasons she had been resentful of the beautiful young woman, only to find out that she had had no reason to – on the contrary.

Shereen put her plate to the side. "I'm sorry if I have made you uncomfortable with my actions yesterday. Often, tension is eased if one speaks about what troubles them. It must be very confusing for you to shift your feelings for me from resentment to some kind of pity in a matter of minutes"

Brienne looked up, shocked that Shereen had so easily picked up on her feelings. She cleared her throat: "Well, I wouldn't call it 'resentment'…"

Shereen laughed: "Oh please, you thought I was in love with your man!"

Brienne tried to suppress a blush: "My man? He is NOT my man!"

"But the two of you love each other. And everyone knows."

Brienne snorted, amused: "Oh come on now, you're not blind? We'd be a laughingstock together, even if he did reciprocate my feelings."

Shereen studied her with a frown: "And as I am not blind, what exactly am I supposed to see?"

Brienne shook her head, irritated: "Do I really have to explain to you that I am a laughingstock by myself already? Brienne the fucking Beauty, the homely, plain, horsey, giant of a woman that no one will ever want, except maybe for my title and lands."

Shereen looked at her, affronted: "You need a good smack about your head. Who in the world made you believe such a nonsense?! Don't you see yourself at all?"

Brienne frowned, confused: "I do look in a mirror now and then and know very well what I look like, Shereen. Maybe you have a different taste because you only like women".

"Oh, but I don't."

Brienne looked up, bewilderment written across her features. "But I thought… you… what you said about me…"

"Oh that is true. I do want to be with you. But just for the record, I am interested in both sexes."

Shereen leaned forward, taking Brienne's hand and gazing into her eyes: "I'll tell you what I have seen these last weeks: I walked into the camp and suddenly there was this woman in armor, sparring with a soldier, outfighting him with fluent moves, who had such a brazen look and a striking face that I could not do anything but stop and stare. You are fierce, and magnificent, and you have a sense of honor and loyalty like I have never seen. You're smart. And funny. And that makes you all the more attractive. I don't know how you can't see this."

Brienne's brows knitted in confusion: "As much as I would like to believe your words, there is still the fact that wherever I go, I will be mocked because of my looks. That is all the evidence I need."

Shereen squeezed her hands: "You know I have studied with many masters, and I have been educated in all kinds of subjects. Studying societies and human interaction and what makes people tick was one of the main fields of my education. A mind can be influenced in many ways. How people perceive you is often not what they really see, but what they are made to believe."

Brienne pulled back and snorted: "So what you're saying is that basically, I am really attractive, but people have been made to believe I'm ugly? _Really_ interesting theory."

Shereen laughed: "I know it sounds absurd at first, but please hear me out. People are uncomfortable with the unknown. Your height and skill with the sword are two alien features that many people don't know how to deal with. Men do not take it well when they are intimidated by a woman. And men often go for the easiest, most cowardly way to go about it – they try to hurt the woman that intimidates them. With you, they'd have no chance to beat you with a sword, so they beat you with words and insults. They look for your most obvious features and go for that: Your height, the fact that you wear your hair short so it won't hinder you in battle - that you are not the typical woman. So they say things that attack your womanhood. And other people hear it, and when you hear a thing often enough you tend to believe it."

Brienne blew out a breath of air, a slightly amused but still skeptical expression in her face. "I'm sorry, but this is just too far-fetched. I thank you for trying to cheer me up, but there is no way I can believe this."

Shereen shot her a mischievous grin: "How about a challenge?"

Brienne raised her eyebrows. "A challenge?"

"I'll prove to you that I am right. I will show you that men can see you in a different light. You'll just have to allow me to take the reins tonight. I promise you, I'll have you do nothing that you are not comfortable with. I give you my word". Sheeren smiled and looked up at Brienne expectantly.

Brienne rubbed her face, thinking this was all a very bad idea. On the other hand, what did she have to lose? She had no expectations and would do nothing she was uncomfortable with.

"No dress." She ground out.

Shereen smiled radiantly and inclined her head. "No dress!"


	4. Chapter 4

"I think we're ready." Sheeren took a step back and let her gaze travel over Brienne's body. "Yes, perfect. Stop fumbling with your clothes".

"Where did you even get this?" Brienne studied her clothes in the mirror. She was clad in simple grey pants that were cut to empathize her long, lean curves and hugged her buttocks, soft brown leather boots lacing almost up to her knees, and a tunic cut in a fashionable style from Essos that fell to her hips. The tunic's color perfectly matched the shade of Brienne's sapphire eyes.

Brienne ran her fingers through her freshly cut hair. Sheeren had only clipped some strands here and there but the overall result was quite astonishing, she thought. She had always cut it herself and all she had ever cared about was that was practical. She had never much cared about what it looked like. Now that her hair was brushed back and curled around her temples, she had to admit it did something to the features of her face that she kind of liked.

"I mean, you just happened to have some clothes here that match my height and figure? Where did they come from?"

Shereen blew out some air. "Well, this is going to sound weird. I don't have much to do here while travelling and one of my past times is sewing."

" _You_ made this?! When? Why?" Brienne studied the neat stitching on the sleeves. "This is really incredible. It fits as if it was made for me."

"Well it was" Shereen confessed. "I have seen this type of tunic many months ago in Essos and when I met you I thought there was no one who could wear this style better than you. And I wanted to see you in that tunic. So I sent someone to get just the right shade of fabric and set to work. I actually enjoyed making it very much. The thought that you might one day wear it made me give my best."

Brienne turned around and met Shereen's eyes: "Why are you doing this for me? If you have feelings for me I can reciprocate, doesn't this make it all so much harder?"

Shereen laughed out loud: "YOU are actually asking me this? YOU, who has devoted her loyalty, love and time for a man she believes does not love her back? You've never thought of leaving before because it was better for you to be with him that way than not to be with him at all. It's the same way for me. And I do want to see you happy. And I want to see the faces of the men when you walk into the hall tonight."

Brienne gave herself a once-over in the mirror and sighed: "I'm not comfortable with playing a role".

"And I wasn't asking you to play a role. On the contrary, I want you to just be yourself. Pretend there is no one in the dinner hall except for you, me, Jamie, Bronn and our close friends. Ignore all the others. You don't see them, you don't hear them. You'll walk into the hall, you'll sit with me and my guardsmen for a short chat about what to expect when we get to Tarth and then you go over to Jamie and Bronn to eat. That's all. Can you do that?"

Brienne scowled at her reflection in the mirror. "Fine."

...

Jamie looked up from his plate as Brienne strode into the room. He stifled a gasp and almost choked on a piece of bread. There she was. And something had changed. It was not only the clothes that fit her to perfection, emphasizing her lean body and toned curves. It was not only that her hair curled around her head in a windblown way that just begged him to run his fingers through the shiny strands. She had the same air about her as when she strode onto the battlefield: Confident, sure about herself, comfortable in her skin. She seemed like a different person yet more herself than he had ever seen her. There was none of the awkwardness left that he loved to tease her about.

Bronn followed his gaze, his eyes sparkling appreciatively: "Well, well. Someone has moved right to the top of my to-do list…" He wiggled his eyebrows at Jamie. "To DO list, get it?"

Jamie punched his shoulder without taking his eyes off Brienne.

She walked over to where Shereen was sitting with her guardsmen, pulled up a chair and flipped it around so that the back of the chair was facing the table. She slid her long legs over the sides and rested her arms on the back of the chair while chatting with the group. She looked relaxed and at ease, and her posture caused the fabric of her pants to tighten around her buttocks in an enticing way.

"You know, taking off clothes only works when you use your hands, not your eyes" Bronn grinned. With a glance at Jaime's right arm he added. "Or hand. Or teeth. Or pretty much anything. You just have to get up and actually _do it_ to be successful."

"Fuck off" was all he could grind out.

"Oh come on, you've been making goo-goo eyes at each other for years. Don't you think it's time?!"

"If I were you, and wanted to keep those teeth you like to undress your ladies with, I would heed my advice and shut the fuck up". Jaime attacked the steak on his plate. And yet, a second later, his eyes were back on Brienne.

She got up, nodded to the group and turned to stride in Jaime's direction. Shereen watched her walk away, looking at her with a sparkle in her eyes and a hint of longing. And she wasn't the only one, Jaime realized. A lot of the men had noticed a change about her, sending glances her way and murmuring appreciatively when she walked by. Obviously, he wasn't the only one who had noticed how the fabric of her clothes molded to her curves, and her buttocks received many appreciative stares when she passed the men.

She slid into the seat next to him and started piling food on her plate.

Behind them, a group of newcomers had shifted their attention to Brienne. One of them stood up and moved to stand behind Brienne.

"Mylady, we have a free place at our table and good wine and many stories to tell. Maybe you would like to join-"

"Piss off" Jamie said, with a friendly voice but an icy stare. He looked up at the newcomer and let his eyes speak for himself. He man cleared his throat, opened his mouth, then looked into Jaime's eyes; he turned around and went back to his table.

Brienne turned to look at Jamie with raised eyebrows, an amused smile playing at her lips. "Ser Jaime, I believe I would have been quite capable of sending the good man on his way on my own."

"And deprive me of this pleasure? Oh no. Besides, I want to hear all about your day with Shereen" Jamie grinned, nudging Brienne's leg with his and trying not to startle at the rush of adrenaline that shot through his body at the touch.

Jaime looked at her through squinted eyes: "You've changed. Something's gotten into you today"

Bronn grunted in amusement and gave a sly grin: "Yes, what has gotten _into you_ today? Or who?"

"Oh for fuck's sake, would the two of you stop!" Brienne pushed away her plate. "I think I need some fresh air".

Jaime got up quickly: "Let's go for a walk. And then you can tell me all the juicy details. Unfortunately, Bronn has promised to sparr with Podrick and won't be able to join us. What a pity" He grinned at Bronn as they left the hall.


	5. Chapter 5

They strolled through the forest and finally settled down on a fallen log beside a small lake. Jaime had tried to get some details on what had happened that day, but she had mostly evaded the topic. Finally, he could not stand it any longer. He tugged on the buckle strap of her tunic to get her to face him.

"There is something different about you, but I can't put my finger on it and that is driving me insane. Mercy, Lady Brienne."

She grinned at him: "It is quite amusing to watch you squirm. You don't want to deprive me of that pleasure, do you?"

He sighed and felt his insides tighten with anxiety: "So, the two of you…?"

She gazed at him, and he held his breath. "We're just friends. I do not share her feelings."

Jaime felt a wave of relief flood his body. He had not been wrong about her. "That still doesn't explain what has changed about you."

"It is hard to put into words. I've had some kind of revelation today, if you may say so. About how to deal with my fears. How to deal with rejection."

He didn't know if she was talking about people in general or her feelings for him. "Some people are idiots" he said. He didn't know if he was talking about people in general or about himself.

"Well, I hope if someone comes along who is not an idiot, he will show me that he is not." She smiled at him, then turned her head away from him to gaze over the lake.

Jaime couldn't help feeling that this was a crucial moment: He had to say something now, or she would believe that his feelings for her were only that of a friend. He struggled for the right words, but nothing came to mind that didn't sound pathetic. Several times he opened his mouth but nothing came out.

After some moments of silence, Brienne stood up, dusted off her pants and said "Well, it's getting late – time to head back."

As she brushed past him, he realized it was now or never. He grabbed her and pushed her against a tree. She looked at him, her lips slightly opened in surprise. He bent his head and captured her lips with his. She hesitated only for an instant, then her arms came around him and he felt her hands settle on his back and the fingers of one hand travel up to tangle in his hair. They left goosebumps in their wake.

He ran his tongue along her lower lip. She tasted of snow, the sea and wilderness. His heart swelled with such an intense yearning that it almost bordered on pain. He pulled her closer and deepened their kiss. He didn't know how long they stood there, entangled, his hands exploring the soft curves of her body. Finally, he pulled back and looked at her, trying to convey all that he was feeling through his eyes. Finally he settled on the one thing he could think of to say to her: "I want to die in your arms."

Her eyes softened with understanding and then started to tear up. "That is the most romantic thing I have ever heard" she said hoarsely and pulled him into another kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

When they headed back towards the inn, Brienne felt as if her body was on fire. Jaime's kisses had affected her in ways she hadn't thought were possible. Her stomach was aflutter with a wonderful queasiness and several parts of her body felt flushed and sensitive. It was more thrilling than anything she had ever experienced.

Her head swam with confused thoughts. Although she had taken that one shot at him, she would never have believed that he would actually respond to it. That he shared her feelings. That he wanted to be with her. It still felt like a dream but the sensitive parts of her lips that had been crushed during their passionate kisses reminded her that it had indeed happened. That, and Jamie's warm hand in hers. Yet, there was a feeling of anxiety lurking in the back of her mind. She was completely inexperienced in matters of the heart, and, more importantly, the body. She had kept her virginity through all these years, thanks to him, in more ways than one.

When they slipped into her room, she had to keep her fingers from trembling as she opened the straps of his tunic. When she had taken it off, she started on the straps holding his prosthetic hand to his right arm. He tried to pull away, but she held on and looked into his eyes, seeing insecurity in their depths. "I want to feel you, all of you, to explore every inch of your skin. Here, too." With that, she continued opening the straps, and he let her. In a way, she realized, this was a first time for him, too, with his own insecurities to overcome.

When the hand was off, she turned his wrist inside up and placed a soft kiss on the place where his pulse was fluttering. Jaime's head fell back and a soft sigh escaped his lips. She traced his arm from his wrist to his elbow with soft, nibbling kisses, tasting the salt on his skin. When she reached the soft inside of his elbow, he groaned and pulled her onto the bed. She discarded her own clothes as quickly as she could and slipped with him under the warm furs. He started his own trail of kisses from her neck to the throbbing place between her legs. He made her scream with pleasure, and when he finally took her virginity, it was only a brief, sweet pain. Afterwards, they nestled together and soon drifted off to sleep.

Jaime woke up when the first rays of sunlight touched upon the furs of their bed. His sleep had been deep and undisturbed, and he could not remember when he had last slept that well, if ever. He felt Brienne's soft warm curves pressed to his skin and he pulled her closer. The furs shifted with the movement and he could glimpse the small, firm globes of her breasts. He remembered the first time he had laid eyes on them. They had taken a bath together in Harrenhal, and he had riled her up so much, she had shot out of the water like a pissed off warrior goddess, and he had been speechless as he had taken her in in all her naked glory. He hadn't been able to keep his gaze from straying to her beautifully shaped breasts then, either. Those images had haunted him not only in his fevered nights at Harrenhal, but also in lonely, restless nights for years to come. Every morning after he had woken from such a dream and she had not been there, an ache had spread through his chest.

He bent to kiss her neck, thinking he never wanted to let her get away from him ever again. Brienne sighed contently and slowly opened her eyes, turning to face him as a bemused smile formed on her lips. He ran his fingers through her hair and traced the lines of her face.

"You know," he said "There is one important matter still left to settle…"

She looked up at him with questioning eyes. "What's that?"

"Are you going to make an honorable man out of me or not?"

She laughed. "After one night together you are already willing to get married?"

He sighed dramatically. "Well, I did have to wait for several years before you finally made a move on me. That wait was long enough." He grinned at her as she slapped his chest, but then his eyes turned serious. "You're the one. When you know, you know." And then he kissed her to settle the matter.


	7. Chapter 7

Brienne stood at the bow of the ship, her hands resting on the wooden railing. The white-tipped waves crashed around the ship's prow and the cold spray stung her cheeks. In the distance, an island rose out of the waves, its green hills and sapphire bays beckoning. Home. After so many years of being away, she couldn't believe she would be back in Tarth in a couple of hours.

She heard footsteps approaching. Shereen stood next to her, shielding her eyes from the sun and squinting towards Tarth. Her raven hair was whipping in the wind.

"So this is it?" Brienne grunted in agreement, a frown troubling her forehead as she stared off into the distance.

"What's bothering you?"

Brienne turned to look at her, trying to find the right words. "Apprehension, I guess. I don't really know what to expect. It has been so many years since I have talked to my father. I don't know how he feels about the way I have chosen to lead my life."

Shereen shot her a warm smile: "Well, you have developed your conceptions of honor and loyalty based on what he taught you. I cannot imagine him to be anything but proud of your achievements."

"If I had been a son, then for sure. But as his daughter…" she struggled with the words. "He has always had different plans for me. As his only child, I am also his only chance to carry on his title and lands. It took him some years to give up on the thought of marring me to some suitor, and he then he finally stopped talking about heirs. He gave in to my wishes and taught me to fight. And when he saw me off to go find my purpose in life, he wished me all the luck in the world. But I know I also broke his heart doing that."

"And now, you have a wonderful man at your side - that should make you happy. And him. And who knows – maybe Jaime will seize the opportunity and propose to you." She studied Brienne's profile and saw a tensing in the features of her face. There was an expression in her eyes that she could not place…

"BY THE GODS!" Realization finally hit. "He's already asked you!"

Brienne shifted uncomfortably, her hands moving restlessly over the wooden railing, and made a growling sound in her throat that Shereen took as confirmation.

"I'm so happy for you!" Shereen nudged Brienne, trying not to think too much about the stab of pain in her heart when she thought of Brienne being married to another. She took a deep breath and brushed her feelings aside. "So if he's already asked you, why are you still concerned?"

Brienne looked off into the distance. "I don't really know. Several things – for one, my father and I had finally made peace with me being …well, _me_ , and I am afraid that if he finds out I'm with…" her heart still sped up when she said his name "… Jaime, he might have a different reaction than I was hoping for."

"How so?"

Brienne started worrying her lower lip. "I know our reputation precedes us to the realms, but there are many places left where the Lannister name is not popular. There, they still call him Kingslayer, Oathbreaker, Man without honor. Not the kind of man my father had in mind for me."

As they stared out over the water towards the approaching island, Bronn came up behind them.

"Ladies." He slipped in place next to Shereen, resting his elbows on the railing and sighed contently. "Ahhh… Tarth! Finally! Fresh food, a place to stretch your legs, …and women! I do hope my reputation has preceded me." he flashed Shereen a cocky smile.

Shereen gave him a slightly amused, pitiful look. "Why in all the world would you hope for that?"

Bronn drew himself up, preening: "Haven't you heard what the women in the camp have been talking about me? There have been no better songs sung for the greatest heroes than about my skills with my sword and its sheaths".

"Yes, I've heard those stories. In the common tongue." She said dryly. "I have also heard the _other_ stories, those not spoken in the common tongue. Valerian girls do have sharp tongues. They're quite funny, too." With that, she marched off towards the lower decks.

Bronn stood there for a moment, shell-shocked, then quickly hurried after her. " _Other_ stories? What other stories?!"


	8. Chapter 8

The first days on Tarth passed without a chance to speak to her father privately. It had been a joyful reunion, but so far, there had always been someone present or some business to attend to. Brienne and the others had sat in on meetings with her father and the representatives from Tarth and given counsel. She had shown her friends around the isle and in the evenings, everyone had eaten together in the great hall.

She and Jaime had come to an agreement: they would not openly pursue their relationship until Brienne had had a chance to talk with her father. Still, in the dark of the night he would seek out her chamber and they would spent the night together until he had to sneak out in the mornings before the castle started to come to life. When she slipped out of the furs to take a bath, she would lovingly caress the sensitive parts of her body where Jaime's ardent kisses had left their scarlet marks. Her heart expanded with the memories of their shared nights and dreams.

And then she would think of her father and felt a vice squeeze around her heart. She wondered what she would so if he didn't approve. Or worse, if she had to see a look of disappointment on his face as he gazed at her. That would break her heart because she knew that if she had to choose between Jaime and her father, it would be Jaime. It had always been Jaime.

And yet, to marry him against the wishes of her father was unspeakable. It was akin to breaking an oath, and she had never broken an oath before. It would go against everything she stood for, everything she held dear. Nausea churned in her stomach at the thought. Today, she decided. Today was the day she was going to tell him.

Finally, after dinner, she had complimented away everyone that was hovering around her father, and they had retreated into his chambers. They settled into two comfortable armchairs at the fireplace and sat side by side, watching the crackling flames.

Brienne felt a warm hand on hers, and she looked up into the lined face of her father. He had aged so much these last years, the hairs on his head sparse and few, his body softer, thinner, but he still had that powerful presence she had always so admired. His solemn eyes looked at her and shone with affection.

"My wonderful, brave daughter. I still can't believe all the battles you have survived, and won, and always fought on the side that honor compelled you to. You have stared death in the face and defied all odds. I could not have been prouder of any son that I am of you."

Brienne felt her throat close up, and was afraid her voice would break, so she settled for squeezing his hand and blinking the tears away. She smiled at him: "I could not have achieved any of that if not for my wonderful father, who has always supported me, and taught me everything I needed to know, even though it sometimes wasn't in his own interest. And sometimes even when it went against something he believed in." She looked at him, half-sad, thinking of what she was about to tell him.

"You know," he said "At first it wasn't easy to let go of my expectations, I have to admit that. But my love for you and your happiness was what has always decided my actions. After all that you have done for me, for our kingdom, you deserve all the happiness you can get." He looked at her, then, and she had the feeling that he knew she wanted to tell him something important. Before she could speak, though, he carried on. "You have never been someone to conform to the expectations of others, and it would have surprised me if you had. I have had to deal with comments of other lords and highborns before, concerning the unusual way I deal with my offspring, but that takes no skin off my back. Hell, if the Targaryans can marry brother and sister, we can wed two women. If it makes you happy, that's all that counts. I don't need any heirs."

Brienne stared at him, speechless. "What in all of the world are you talking about?!"

Her father frowned at her, confused: "I've seen the way that Shereen woman looks at you. Don't tell me I was wrong. I know what I'm talking about."

Brienne fidgeted in her seat. "Well, you're not wrong about this, per se, but… I do love someone else." And just to make sure her father wouldn't come to the wrong conclusion again, she added: "Someone who would be able to produce heirs."

He looked at her, surprised. Then understanding dawned in his eyes: "It's that former sellsword, that rugged fellow – Bronn, right? Well, I have to admit I'm not thrilled but at least it's not that Lannister."

She felt herself wince, then forced herself to meet his eyes, and just looked at him. He looked back, waiting for her response. She saw confusion in his eyes, then realization, then shock. He released a breath and let himself fall back into the chair. "The Kingslayer" he whispered.

She slipped from her seat to kneel in front of him and took his hands in hers. She took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. "I know you must be disappointed. I know that his reputation is still tarnished. But believe me when I tell you that he is a man of honor. He has saved my life more times than I can count, even when he hardly knew me, and didn't need to. There is no one I would trust my life to more than him. I named my sword Oathkeeper in honor of him, and he has never broken a promise given to me. I would give my life for his."

She looked at him, wishing she could tell him so much more, to make him see, but in the end she just raised her chin and hoped for the best.

Her father looked at her for a long time, then brushed a lock from her forehead. "I don't trust him" he said, and sighed. "But I do trust you. You have never disappointed me. I believe in your judgement."

Brienne felt her knees weaken as her body flooded with relief.

Her father cleared his throat. "Yet, I still expect him to formally ask for your hand, it is the tradition. And maybe it will please me to make him sweat for it."


	9. Chapter 9

Brienne rested her forehead on the cool stones of wall at the entrance of the great hall. She could hear the sounds of the feast, the clanking of cups and cutlery, countless people talking over each other, a laugh here and there. She didn't mind missing part of the feast, she was too anxious to eat much, anyways. She had talked with Jaime after her father's sufferance of their relationship – you couldn't really call it acceptance – and they had both thought it might do some good if he would see them together to get used to the idea.

Now, nervousness had her stomach churning with nausea again. The thought of all those people in the hall looking at her, staring at them, realizing that they were together. What if they laughed? What if they pointed at her and mocked them? Old insecurities crept up in the back of her mind and she felt her throat close up. Sweat beaded her skin.

She felt a warm hand on her back, stroking softly. "You're alright?" Jaime looked at her, concerned. "You look pale."

She looked at him, worried. "Are you sure you want to do this? There is no going back after that. Everyone will know about us." She felt a nervous flutter in her belly. She hated her body's reactions. They made her seem weak. She was not. And yet she couldn't deny a certain panic. What if he the worst came to pass? Was she really everything he wanted?

Jamie studied her worried scowl and saw insecurity in her expression. He took her hand and placed it over his heart. "It is yours. It will always be yours."

He pulled her into a kiss, then whispered in her ear: "Let's do this."

He took her hand and they laced their fingers together before they turned to walk into the great hall.

….

They walked down the rows of tables, their hands still interlinked, and the sounds of the feast started to die down. When they came to a stop in front of her father, the hall was silent and everyone's attention was focused on the three of them.

Selwyn Tarth looked straight into Jamie's eyes, his eyes dark and disapproving. He sat rigid, unmoving, challenging Jaime with his stare. He was not an easy man to impress, a man who preferred actions to words.

Jaime knew that he had to make some kind of statement about him and Brienne being together. He could not impress Selwyn Tarth with eloquent words and empty phrases, and to lay his heart bare in front of everyone was not the way to go here. Yet, he had to do something to break the tension, so that they could finally take a seat at the table and move on. They were still locked in a battle of stares and the silence in the hall was deafening. He kept his eyes on Selwyn Tarth as he slid his hand around Brienne's waist, pulling her around until she lay cradled in his right arm. He shifted this gaze to look into those beautiful, surprised blue eyes, stroking Bienne's cheek before fusing their lips in a passionate kiss.

The hall erupted in cheers and whistles. The men chanted their names and called for more wine to celebrate. Jaime ended the kiss slowly, touching his forehead to hers before pulling himself up with Brienne still in his arms. He looked at her father, who scowled at him with a look of mistrust but also a hint of grudging respect. Selwyn gave them a curt not and inclined his head towards the free seats at the table. Jaime released his breath, relieved, and they went to sit beside Bronn and Shereen.

"That was a nice touch" Sheeren smiled at them and then continued to leisurely slice her food, eating the morsels with indulgence, now and then shooting a mischievous smirk over to Bronn, who was angrily cutting away at a slice of venison. Bronn speared a piece of meat with his knife, then pointed it accusingly at Shereen, snarling: "That ain't bloody fair and you know it!"

Sheeren dusted an invisible speck from her sleeve and rose from the table. "I know no such thing." She inclined her head to Jaime and Brienne, wished them a good night, and left the hall.

Bronn muttered: "Bloody unfair!" before he shoved away his plate and strode after Shereen.

Brienne raised her eyebrow at Jaime: "What's that all about?"

He grinned. "I can imagine it has something to do with Shereen's challenge."

She picked up her cup. "Another challenge? What has Bronn gotten himself into?"

Jaime leaned closer. "Oh well, you know, he kept bragging about how the women of Tarth would do anything for him, so she asked him if he'd bet on that. So their bet was that he'd not be intimate with a woman until she did what he asked her to – and Shereen would decide what that was."

Brienne smirked into her cup. "Oh no, what will she have him do?"

"The woman needs to introduce him to her parents first."

Brienne's laughter rang through the hall.


	10. Chapter 10

He pulled away the heavy cloth, running his hands over the nicks and dents in his armor. The room smelled of leather, smoke and sweat. Jamie ran his fingers along a deep gouge on the breastplate, unbidden memories arising. The sounds of the bog, the cries of pain, of horror, in the night. Squatting in that tiny boat, not knowing if they could fulfill their mission, if they would ever make it back. His chest tightened with distant memories and the anticipation of what was still to come.

A raven had arrived from Dorne that morning. The Sand Snakes were stirring up unrest, and they had to prepare for the eventuality that there might be some hostile confrontation upon their arrival. Consequently, Jaime paid a visit to the armory to take stock of their weapons, shields and everything else that might be needed on a battlefield. They were planning to leave for Dorne in a fortnight.

A wide assembly of swords, daggers and shields gleamed in the dusty twilight. His eyes and hands checked every item carefully, running a finger over the sharp blades, admiring the shimmer of Valyrian steel. At last, almost reverently, he picked up the shield that had been custom made for him many years ago. He turned it so that a ray of light played over the smooth surface, lighting up the spikes of steel emanating from the sides of the shield. After it had been forged, it had lain unused for many years. The only reason he had taken it with him in the first place was to remember Tyrion, who had had it made for him after the loss of his right hand. He never thought it would become such an important part of his life, but he shivered at the thought of what might have happened had he not taken it along. The tradition of naming swords for luck was deeply ingrained, and curiously, he couldn't help naming his shield. He had never _officially_ named it, never spoken it aloud, but still, his mind still instantly supplied the nick name that had one day popped up in his head and adamantly refused to give up residence in his mind – the Wench Warden. She'd probably rip his head off were she ever to find out.

He heard the door open as someone slipped into the room. He expected Bronn, raving and ranting about the restrictions of Shereen's challenge, but when he turned around, he came face to face with Selwyn Tarth.

The dark pools of Selwyn's scrutinizing eyes wandered over the lined up weaponry, then came to rest on Jaime's shield. He could see a spark of interest in their depths. "That's quite an unusual shield" he said, extending one hand to run his fingers over the smooth surface. "May I take a closer look?"

Jaime handed it over, watching Selwyn turn it into the light, studying the design, intently inspecting the locking mechanism at the back of the shield. Bemused, he asked: "That's a strange contraption at the back. How do you hold it?"

Jamie raised his prosthetic hand and slid out a wedge that revealed an indentation at the back of his hand. He slid the nodule at the back of the shield into the notch of his hand, and with a click, they joined.

He could see the appreciation for the fine device on Selwyn's face, as he studied the shield, realizing it could not only be used to block a sword strike, but also to trap a blade with the spikes if held up at a convenient angle. It could also be used to attack. Those spikes were sharp and would cut through leather like a knife through butter.

"That's a fine piece of work." Selwyn said. "It must have seen many battles."

"Surprisingly, not as many as it could have. Once you've been hailed as one of the best swordsmen in Westeros, there are expectations. Expectations I knew I would never be able to fulfil again, no matter how fine a device. So I didn't pick it up for the longest time."

"What made you change your mind?"

Jaime could not suppress a smile curling the corners of his mouth. "Brienne. It was when we were stuck in that bog up in the north. We had to retrieve an important artifact, and there was only room for two people on the boat we had. Brienne was in charge of the mission, and when I requested to be the other person with her on that boat, she flat-out refused me. She told me I couldn't fight for shit. And that she would not endanger my life and our mission by taking me along."

Selwyn nodded in amusement. "That does sound like her."

"So for the next days, I would sneak off with Bronn to practice. Aside from eating and the occasional hour of restless sleep, my life revolved around mastering the shield. I would only stop if I could not lift my arm anymore. It was pure hell, but I couldn't stand the thought of Brienne taking off without me. On the last day, I went up against her with my sword and the shield."

"And?"

"Well, she beat me, of course. But just so." Jaime could still remember the look she had given him after sparring that night. A weird mix of bewilderment, respect, satisfaction and a hint of relief. The second spot on the boat had been his. They were glorious together - a whirl of swords and shields and madness. He didn't remember how they got out of there, but etched in his mind was the memory of the two of them in the boat on their way back, bleeding, hurt, but successful and euphoric. They had shared a look that spoke of how important this night had been for them, how neither of them could have carried on if the other had fallen. The shield had never left his side again. Neither had Brienne, he had made sure of that. And now it was time to make it official.

He unlocked the shield from his right hand and slid the wedge back in place, before placing it gingerly on the table. Then he held up his right arm. "You know, at first, after losing my hand, I had given up on life. I didn't eat, I didn't care. I probably would have laid down in the muck and just waited to die if Brienne had not given me a telling-off. She finished her rant with 'you sound like a fucking woman' and I realized she was right. Only later did I discover a pattern there - she is almost always right.  
Still, I spent the next years mourning the loss of my hand. And now – if I could ask for my hand back, I wouldn't. It was an important part of making me who I am today, and for the first time in my life, I am proud of what I have achieved. If I could ask for one thing, though, it would not be my hand, but Brienne's. I could never part from her again, and I want to finally make it official."

He met Selwyn's eyes, holding his breath. The old man seemed to contemplate the request, a scowl etched on his forehead. Finally he took a deep breath. "I have to admit you're not the one I was hoping for. I thought if she just found the right person, she might be able to fit in and feel accepted. But now I have realized that she will never fit in. How could she? She is exceptional! She needs someone who can see that, who cherishes that about her. And as much as I would like to dislike you, I can see you love her just the way she is. And that is worth more to me than any house, lordship or title combined. So the answer is yes. But if you'll ever hurt her, you won't have to wonder about what is going to happen to your other hand or other appendages - are we clear on that?"

"Indeed, we are, Lord Tarth."

"There is only one condition to my approval…"

Of course, there had to be a catch.

Selwyn's eyes twinkled. "I have reached an age where the Gods might decide to call me to them any time they see fit. Who knows how much time I have left? So my condition is to see you wed before you leave for Dorne." He smiled graciously, inclined his head to Jaime and left the room.


	11. Chapter 11

"I'm going to be sick" Brienne hung her head between her knees, overwhelmed by the thoughts and feelings jumbling around in her head.

"I know, I know" Shereen groaned, pacing the length of the room. "Ten days to plan a wedding – this is madness!"

The relief that had flooded her when Jaime told her about the accepted proposal was quickly replaced by anxiety and restlessness. It was one thing to be distantly dreaming of a wedding, but to suddenly have it jump in your face like an unsuspecting maid being ambushed on her way home was a completely different matter. The last time she had envisioned herself as a bride had been decades ago, the foolish hopes and dreams of a little girl, revolving around ivory dresses and gemstones in her long, flowing hair. But then puberty – and consequently, reality – had set in. The only thing about her that turned out to be long and flowing were her limbs. By now, ivory dresses were the stuff of her nightmares.

It would be impossible to procure a suitable dress in ten days. Other brides who did not have time to get anything tailored might be able to just purchase an existing dress and make some alterations to it, but her height made that impossible. Dresses made for regular women did not cover much more than her knees, and the waist of the dress would sit somewhere between her breasts and her hips, with the trail swishing around her ankles. She tried to push the images away, but like a pestering fly, they returned with company. Suddenly, the image contained not only herself in a pale monstrosity, but also a flood of gloating visitors, gaping back and forth between her and the most beautiful, handsome man of Westeros standing next to the septon. Instead of announcing the wedding, maybe they could just pass it off as a travelling circus opening sequence.

She sighed deeply. Due to her clogged up throat, though, the sound that arose was more of a wet gurgle, conjuring up a déjà vu of the sound her boots had made when she pulled them out of the bog's deep muck.

Shereen shot her a look full of compassion. "I know this might not be the wedding of your dreams, but I'll do my best to put together something halfway decent. There's just so little time! Planning the menu, preparing the food, decorating the castle, getting the guest rooms ready... there is too much to do! I've sent ravens to all noble houses that are close enough to travel to Tarth in ten days, but there are not many – basically just the nobles from the Stormlands, maybe the Naharis from Tyrosh, but I that's it."

"Thank the Gods for small blessings!" Brienne mumbled. "If I had it my way, it'd just be a simple ceremony with only closest friends and family, without all the fuss."

"Oh no, no! We're going to make this as big as we can! You're father deserves that! The people of Tarth deserve that! … _I_ deserve that!" Shereen shot her a cheeky grin. Only because she had known her for so long and well now, did Brienne pick up on a hint of melancholy behind Shereen's happy face. "If I have to watch the woman of my dreams marry another, the least you can do is let me go all out with the ceremony. You know how I love that stuff. It's such a shame that it takes two weeks to travel from Myr to Tarth. I could have invited my parents." Her eyes started to glaze over, probably imagining flower arrangements and table settings.

Brienne sighed. "It's just… the dress. It's the epitome of evil. There is nothing that makes me feel more insecure than having to wear a dress. And if it's an ill-fitted one on top of that…"

Shereen came to a stop in front of her, putting her hands on her hips to scowl at her. "How well do you know me?!"

"Huh?"

Shereen started pacing again: "How long has it been since you confirmed to me on the ship that Jaime proposed to you?"

Brienne counted back the days. "Maybe four weeks?"

"What do you think I've been doing in my spare time?"

Brienne stared at her, astonished: "You couldn't have! You didn't even know until last night!"

Shereen waved one of her hands in the air as if swatting away the argument. "I've seen the way Jaime looks at you. Now that he finally confessed to his feelings, it was just logical that he would want to tie the knot as soon as possible. There never was a doubt in my mind… so I'm almost finished. Four, maybe five more days for the embellishments." She looked at Brienne expectantly.

"That is incredible, I cannot thank you enough!" Brienne was immensely grateful, but she couldn't shake all of her unsettlement.

Shereen pinned her with a stare and Brienne felt as if she could see right through her. "So what's the problem?"

Brienne intensely studied a fleck of dirt next to her right foot. Even the nicest dress would look… _wrong_ on her. Shereen had put so much time and effort into it and the overall result would still be just shy of ridiculous. "I have to admit, even in the best dress I'm going to feel just as bad in public as if I had to walk naked. I'm just not a dress person."

"Well, it's not technically a dress"

Brienne stared at her, perplexed, and incredibly relieved: "It's not?"

"Not really, but it'll work, I promise!" She rubbed her hands together excitedly. "I can't wait to dress you up!"


End file.
